Master of the Hallows
by stalkerace
Summary: Fourteen years ago, Harry Potter left Britain. Now he is back, and he has a goal that does not bode well for Magical Britain.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it.

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**MASTER OF THE HALLOWS**

**PROLOGUE**

**Heathrow Airport, London**

**England, United Kingdom**

**March 14, 2013 ACE**

The roar of the twin Rolls Royce engines mounted on the stern part of the aircraft was drowned by the sound of thunder that seem to rumble from the distance. The first drops of rain fell from the dark sky as if the heavens itself heralded the approaching aircraft with her own tears.

Inside the thirty meter long blue and white executive jet, Harry James Potter sat almost passively, his eyes closed, as he watched using his mind's eye the work of the two pilots – both amongst his most trusted – up front.

A sigh almost escaped from his lips, and he almost involuntarily opened his eyes before the woman beside him could place her hand on his thigh. He gave her a dangerous look, and she visibly cringed before she lowered her eyes and retreated from him.

He knew that she was only trying to help him, and that it was not her fault, so he decided against lashing out against her, though he made a mental note to remind his followers that not only does he not like being touched without his permission, he also could sense the people around him even if it looked as if he had his eyes closed.

_'Magic is a powerful tool,'_ Harry thought to himself. At the same time, his business jet entered a hangar located at the farthest end of the airport – away from the city – and the sound of rain hitting the outer fuselage of the skin faded to nothingness.

This time, a sigh did escape from the lips of Harry. He gently pushed himself up from his seat and walked toward the only door of the aircraft, his steps even and his bearing solid, a fact that he had to consciously take note of because at the same time that he was walking, he wanted to be nervous.

This was the first time in more than fourteen years since he had been in the land of his birth. Somehow, he felt as if this was to be a momentous occasion for him, but as the doors opened – revealing the outside world to Harry and for the first time in fourteen years, he was once more breathing the air of his native England – there was nothing.

Harry had to mentally smile as he told himself that there was no reason to expect that something would happen. He knew that the people who had driven his exile from the land of his birth would not be aware that he had returned, after all, they are not aware of the marks that he had left around the world since the time that they had forced him to leave his country, and the woman that he loves more than any other.

The thought of her made Harry clench his fist, but instead of allowing his temper to get the better of him – a fact that he knew from experience was something that he could not allow to happen, especially in Heathrow, for even though his signature is masked from the magic detection grid, his magic could wreak havoc with the electronics in the airport – he inhaled and forced himself to calm down, mentally reciting the cantrips that he was forced to memorize as part of his training in South Africa.

He felt his anger subside – even if it was just bit by bit – and he returned to the present. Half a dozen people – male and female – waited for him at the foot of the stairs, all of them dressed in conservative business attires that would not garner a second look in a white-tie event, but they are here in the middle of a hangar at an airport waiting for him.

Power radiated from all six of them, and it was not the kind of power that most people who understand these kinds of things would sneeze at either.

Harry knew them all, of course, and though all of them are new acquaintances – he had made a lot of friends in the fourteen years that he had wandered the world and all of them are considered new acquaintances – he knew that he could trust them, to a certain degree.

He did not bother to hold on the railings on the side of the stairs as he descended from the interior cabin of his aircraft. He knew that the eyes of those half a dozen men and women were on him, but Harry does not care. There was nothing that any of them could do to him, and he could do anything he wants to do with them. Their combined magical output, Harry knew, was a one-twentieth of his, and that was assuming that they would do the stupid thing and try to attack him.

The oaths that he had extracted from them would protect him from even the most traitorous of them – it was not that he feared their magical capability, it was the fact that even the most powerful mage in the world could be killed by a knife to the throat while he is sleeping – while the legend that built around him as the master of death would cow them into submission even before they could think of entertaining any thoughts of betraying him.

"Sir," the voice of the senior of the half a dozen people that had come to greet his arrival tore Harry out of his reverie. The man who was the former boy-who-lived turned his attention toward the speaker just in time to watch him politely incline his head and say, "Welcome back to Britain."

Harry nodded twice at him, but he refrained from saying anything. Instead, he took a few steps forward, measures that allowed him to see past the obstacles that blocked his vision of the dark outside the hangar. He stared at the dark horizon in front of him, reminding himself that this is the land of his birth.

_'This is the land that you will soon control, my Lord,' _a voice that only Harry could hear whispered against his ear. A smile came crossed the face of Harry even as he subtly agreed with the voice, _'yes,'_ he thought to himself, '_this is the land that I would soon control.'_

Without another word, Harry returned his attention toward the half-dozen witches and wizards who had come to welcome him, and with a grin that was friendly at the same time that it warned anyone of the dangers of facing Harry head-on – or even subtly – the man who had once ended a war within Magical Britain, said, "It is nice to back home."

**ONE**

**Hogsmeade Village, Hogs Valley**

**Scotland, United Kingdom**

**September 24, 2013**

The small, picturesque town located in the valley of the Hogs was the only village within walking distance of the castle that houses Hogwarts School. In fact, the village grew up because of Hogwarts, and there had been many who could claim – perhaps with authority – that if Hogwarts were to close, Hogsmeade would follow soon afterward.

None of that, however, was on the mind of the young woman as she walked through the main street of the small magical village. The streets were deserted, but that was not surprising given the time of the evening. She briefly wondered about the propriety of stopping to grab a quick bite at the tavern, but the young lady decided that there was a mountain of food – sometimes literally – waiting for her at her quarters at the school.

Just because she could not have her evening meal with the rest of the faculty and the student body at the Great Hall of Hogwarts does not mean that she would have to forego the usual Hogwarts fare, she is a professor after all, and she could just ask the House-Elves to bring her something to eat.

With a sigh, Hermione Jean Granger – Hogwarts Professor and Mistress of Transfiguration – turned her attention away from the fountain that was built at the center of the magical village and toward her right side, toward the road that would take her to the castle. It was a brisk twenty minute walk to the castle, she knew that from experience, and even though the road was twisted and dark – with trees flanking the road on either side – she knew how safe that road could be.

With a slight smile as she unconsciously touched her wand, she told herself that even if someone or something would be brave enough to try to attack her, she could always defend herself, and unbidden, she returned her attention toward the fountain built at the center of the magical village.

She briefly wondered if she should frown once more at the sight of the fountain, but it was not the fountain itself that made her want to twist her face and show a displeased façade to the world – even if there are no people around her right now. The real reason that one of the heroes of the Blood War wanted to frown was the fact that she recognized the statues that were on the pedestal at the center of the fountain.

A frown did mar the features of Hermione. The statues that were at the pedestal on the center of the fountain were of her and two other boys. The statues were made to depict the so-called Golden Trio, the three students who had done the impossible and defeated the Dark Lord.

Tall, lanky, red-haired Ronald Weasley, her, and a medium-height, bespectacled boy with unruly black hair and a trademark lightning shaped scar on his forehead, those statues were mounted at the pedestal for everyone to see, and not for the first time since Hermione had seen the statues, she thought about whipping out her wand and transfiguring the statues into something far more appropriate.

A sigh escaped from her features as she forced herself to ignore the statues and return her attention toward the road that she would soon be walking on. She knew that nothing would happen even if she were to destroy those statues, aside from her having to pay a fine, of course, because even if she is one of the persons depicted in those statues, she is still muggle-born in the eyes of the ruling elite.

Hermione took one step closer toward the road that would lead her back to Hogwarts as she tried with all her might to prevent herself from thinking about the situation that had developed after the end of the Second Blood War, but no matter how much she tried to convince herself, her thoughts always turn her back to those times.

The pureblood elite had retained control of the government following the war, and they did so by singing a slightly different tune. Sure, they condemned Voldemort, but at the same time, they espoused their ideals, though in a more sedate manner. No longer was it in vogue for the purebloods to call muggle-born witches and wizards as mudbloods, now the vogue was to sneer at them and call them 'muggle-born' with an accompanying sneer.

Many old pureblood families were eradicated during the Second Blood War, and many more purged following the war, but the only effect that it had was to allow those darker pureblood families to be able to consolidate more power in their hands.

A prime example would be the Malfoy Family. Despite the fact that the scion of the family had a lot to do with the death of a former Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, that same scion is now one of the most trusted advisors of the Minister. Strangely, Lucius Malfoy and his wife are now rarely seen outside of their manor, the latter more so than the former.

The purge that followed the Second Blood War affected not only those darker families of course, and as Hermione felt the frown on her face returning at full blast, she once more turned her attention toward the fountain and the statues, though this time, she focused her gaze at the statue of her best friend.

Harry Potter was the one person who had ended the Second Blood War, yet a year after his victory against the Dark Lord, Hermione arrived at his apartment only to find it empty. There was no note, no letter, not even any indication that he was gone. Hermione would later learn through some contacts with the Ministry – particularly, the surviving members of the Order – that Harry had been forced to exile because of some 'unspecified evidence'.

That was fourteen years ago, and as Hermione clenched her fist, she reminded herself that since then, she was yet to receive any letter from her best friend.

A sigh escaped the lips of Hermione and she shook her head. She considered berating herself for a few moments, but decided against it as she continued her trek toward the school. It had been a mere six hours before Hermione had discovered that Harry was gone, a mere six hours before that terribly discovery, she had decided that she would tell Harry that she is in love with him.

Hermione was more than prepared to beg him to give the two of them a chance, and she somehow knew that he would be more than willing to give the two of them that chance, but of course, when she got to his apartment – and the reason that she had decided to go to his apartment in the first place was to deliver this news – he was already gone.

Neither was Hermione able to discover just what this 'unspecified evidence' was. The knowledge to her was denied because it was decided that she might try to use it to find a loophole to bring Harry back to Britain, and the powers that be had already decided that Harry is too dangerous to be allowed back.

An angry snarl made it past the lips of Hermione, an indication that her control was slipping, though she knew that she was still in the grips. If she had already lost control, she would have shouted at the top of her lungs in frustration.

Hermione took another step toward the school, this time, she forced herself to think about the hot bath that was waiting for her, an incentive to convince herself not to think about the past anymore, but her foot had barely touched the ground in front of her before all hell broke loose in Hogsmeade village.

The statue of the Golden Trio was the first to go. It exploded in a tremendous flash of fire and noise that reminded Hermione of muggle explosives, the kind that she had seen in the movies that she had watched when she was younger. Huge chunks of granite and marble erupted like a geyser into the air before gravity re-exerted its influence upon the pieces thrown overhead and pulled them back. Splashes of water resulted from when the rocks landed on the waters of the fountain, but a vast majority of the broken chunks landed on solid ground, the cobblestones of the streets of the village, destroying those cobblestones with their sheer eight.

She turned her attention toward the statue just in time to see the head of the statue of her best friend thrown into the air, but before she could even think that this was some sort of accident or prank, half a dozen other explosions echoed around the village, and that was the only indication that Hermione needed in order to know that they are under attack.

She whipped out her wand from her wrist holster and held it at the ready position. She was a professor now, more comfortable with shaping young minds, engaging in academic debates, and mentoring gifted young adults prior to them entering the magical world, but there was a time when she was a fighter, and as she held her wand in a ready position and her eyes scanned her surroundings for enemies, there was no doubt to anyone who could have been watching her that she is a warrior, one of the three who had done the impossible during the final year of the Second Blood War.

The screams of those who were taken by shock and the groans of those who had been wounded soon joined the cacophony brought about by the death throes of those whom not even the most powerful of magical healing – save maybe the Philosophers Stone – could assist. That sickly sound was soon joined by the sound of more explosions, adding to the chorus that had distracted those who are still uninjured from making sense of what was happening.

"Everyone, quickly," Hermione shouted at the top of her lungs, quickly taking charge of the situation. She knew that this was no accident. She might have dismissed the explosion that had blasted the statues at the fountain as a prank, but the half a dozen explosions that followed soon afterward were no accident. Certainly the explosions that are still going off at seemingly random parts of the village were not an accident.

The first jet of light produced by firing a spell from a wand nearly caught Hermione as she stood and watched the people of the village rally around her. Fortunately, she had enough presence of mind to erect a shield charm that easily negated the spell that was fired toward her, and though she was surprised – by the fact that the spell light was red, a shade of red that she recognized came from a stunner – she decided to just a make a note about that at the corner of her mind, something that she knew she should worry about at a later time.

Right now, there are far more important things that she should be worried about, such as the fact that the red light of a stunner that was fired toward her was just the first of many.

A veritable rainstorm of spells descended around the town center. The spells that were being fired at them were small prank spells plus an odd stunner or two thrown in for good measure, and because the people are so closely herded together, it was almost impossible for those who are firing the spells to miss. Hermione could only watch in silence as a full quarter of the people that had made it out of their now burning businesses and homes were knocked out of the developing battle with a stunner, a stunner that, in most cases, one or two others had evaded.

The attackers had appeared to have surrounded them at three sides, and they appear to be firing from the safety of buildings that they had not blown up – whether or not they had not blown up said buildings yet or if they truly do not intend to destroy such buildings remain to be seen – and were taking potshots at the gathering townspeople.

"Disperse!" Hermione commanded. She knew that the command meant that she was surrendering effective control of the people, but it also meant that they would be safe and would be able to counter-attack. In any case, she doubted that she could control these people in the first place because even if she is a Hogwarts professor, many of the people in front f her are probably her contemporaries, if not older than her.

The people did take her command to disperse though, and they run at any direction that they could think of, though the only good that that did was for some of the people to bump at each other and knock themselves out. A good few hundred did manage to escape, but many of them were quickly taken out, and for some reason, the attackers had switched to using the killing curse.

She found that strange, since when the townspeople were still a one big herd, the attackers were using stunners, an attack pattern that suggested to Hermione that the attackers wanted live hostages – or at least, not to kill – but the moment that they had clear targets, they shifted to using the most lethal spell in their arsenal. Her fast mind working, Hermione realized that the attackers wanted to take someone from the village, and they are not beyond charring the whole of the village and destroying it – possibly burying the people of the village in order to hide their kidnapping – to accomplish their mission.

The question was who was it that they want to take hostage. Before Hermione could answer that question, however – and it would have been difficult for her to answer in the first place – another explosion tore her mind out of the reverie.

The explosion this time occurred in the street itself and near the epicenter of the explosion, half a dozen people had taken refuge behind a wall. The wall protected them from the spells that were being fired at them, but it was not enough to cover them from the explosion, an explosion that came from behind them in the first place.

The eyes of Hermione widened in almost comical fashion, her reaction from the fact that she realized that the attackers were throwing hand grenades. First, the statue was destroyed by muggle explosives – not that she was complaining about that – now, hand grenades are being employed. It was easy for someone like Hermione to fear that the muggles are the ones doing the assaulting, but there was one problem.

No muggle could see Hogsmeade, and most of them do not even believe in magic. Hermione knew this because she lived half of her life in the muggle world, visiting her parents and the rest of her family every weekend.

Another explosion tore Hermione out of her reverie once more. She blinked once before she returned to the present. Her mind told her to run, so that was exactly what she did. A few seconds later, a cylindrical canister bounced off the cobblestone where she was standing but moments before.

Aware that the canister could be explosives, Hermione did not bother to stop and examine the canister. She had taken refuge behind a wall before the canister exploded, sending a deafening sound and a flash of light scything through a good five feet around the canister.

Hermione recognized the stun grenade, or at least, the effects of the so-called non-lethal weapon. She turned her attention toward the still fleeing people and her eyes widened when she finally saw their attackers. They were not wearing the dark robes and the silver masks of the Death Eaters of Voldemort, but they are also not wearing robes and they are wearing masks.

The masks that the men were wearing were ski masks, the kind that most muggle military personnel would wear when they are in the field, and the clothes that they are wearing, Hermione realized, were muggle body armor, armor that Hermione knew was supposed to be able to stop large caliber rounds.

'_Muggles?'_ Hermione asked herself, _'muggles are attacking Hogsmeade?'_

At the same time that she asked that question, however, she realized that that was crazy. Aside from the fact that muggles could not see the village, the attackers are clearly wizards. They had been firing spells just a few moments before after all.

Before Hermione could think of anything else, she heard a sound that she had never heard before – outside of films, of course – and she turned her attention toward the down the road where she saw more of the armored and ski-mask wearing attackers exit the buildings that they had been using as cover. The attackers had wands on their hands, but at the same time, Hermione realized that those long black metal things that were strapped against their bodies were muggle rifles.

Hermione watched in silence and without moving – it was as if she had been transfixed upon the spot where she had hidden herself – as the muggles form a line at the center of the village. She knew what they are about to do and she tried to remove her gaze from them, but even as her mind gave the order to her muscles, they would not respond.

The sound of more than thirty automatic rifles firing at the same time echoed around the valley of the hogs, forcing the birds that had made their nests upon the branches of the trees of the forest to take to the air once more. By the time that the muggle rifles are empty, a scarce number of the villagers remained at their feet, and they are too shocked to begin firing as the attackers reloaded their weapons.

By the time that the villagers regained their senses, it was already too late. The attackers had reloaded their weapons, and as the villagers – at least, those who are still alive – raised their wands toward their attackers, the small explosions resulting from the bullets of the rifles being fired echoed around the valley again.

This time, organized – or even unorganized – resistance collapsed. Sure there are still a number of witches and wizards who stood at their feet, but the massacre of their fellow villagers seem to have shocked them into both silence and passivity.

This time, the attackers did not bother to reload their rifles, instead, they fanned out amongst the dead, the dying, and those that are still alive. Hermione watched as the attackers placed their rifles at their side, the straps preventing the weapons from falling from their bodies, as they sorted through the mass of flesh.

The first sounds made by the pistols made Hermione blink, and once more, she could just watch in silence as the attackers dispatched of those that are still alive with pistol rounds at the back of their heads.

At the same time, some of the attackers were busy as they seemingly studied the buildings of the village, though Hermione instantly realized that they were not studying the buildings, instead, they appear to be placing something on the exterior walls of every building in the village that was still standing.

Hermione realized that they are placing explosives, and from the number of explosives that they are placing, Hermione had no doubt that the village would not only be destroyed when those go off. It is highly likely that the village would be buried under rubble, and she suspected that that was the point; the village was going to be destroyed in order to bury the bodies of those killed.

At the same time that the explosives were being prepared, quite a few of the masked men were levitating the bodies of those that were stunned and tossing them – none too gently – amongst the bodies of the dead. This action negated the earlier hypothesis of Hermione that those that had been stunned would be taken as hostages, it was clear that it was the intention to bury them as well.

It took five minutes to clear the bodies and gather them at one spot in the village. Once that was done, jerry cans that seemingly came out of nowhere were passed around. With horror, Hermione realized what the plan was when the contents of the cans were emptied at the mound of bodies.

Hermione tried to turn her attention away from what was about to happen, but she found that she could not. She also found that she could not raise her wand or even shout for the attention of the attackers, and the only thing that she could do was watch as two men equipped with flamethrowers lit the mound.

The gasoline that the bodies of the dead, dying, and stunned were drenched with quickly caught fire and in short order, a bonfire was burning in the very center of Hogmseade village.

"Its not pretty," a voice behind Hermione said, and for the first time since she hid in the corner behind a building, she found that she could move, though in this case, her movement was still limited as she could only turn her attention toward the direction where the voice came from.

The speaker was wearing the same muggle ballistics armor as the attackers, and Hermione noted the sidearm strapped at his hip, but what really tore her attention was his face. He was bespectacled, but instead of the round, rimmed glasses with only tape holding it together, the glasses that he was wearing are frameless spectacles that were clearly of a higher quality than the one that she last remembered him wearing.

His hair was still an unruly mop of jet-black, and the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead had faded and one had to look really hard in order to even see its boundaries, but there was no doubt as to who this person is.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. She tried to reach out toward him, to prove that this was not some illusion brought about by the fact that she was about to die and that she wanted to see him one last time.

Harry smiled at the woman that he loves with all of his heart, he knew that she was trying to touch him, but there are things that he must do before he could allow her to place her hands upon him, he inclined his head toward the still burning bonfire and said, "This would not be the last time, neither is this the first time that we have done this," he said, his voice a monotone that frightened Hermione.

Before the transfiguration professor of Hogwarts could say anything, however, Harry returned his attention toward her, "Sleep, Hermione," he said, "Sleep and know that I would be by your side when you wake up."

Hermione wanted to complain, but as she opened her mouth, Harry gestured with his hand, and Hermione felt her eyelids getting heavier. Moments later, she stumbled into the waiting arms of Harry as she took a step toward him.

"Sleep, Hermione," Harry whispered to the ear of his best friend and the woman that he is ready to sacrifice everything for. At the same time that he caught her, he signaled toward the men – his men – who stood at the perimeter of the bonfire, their eyes watching their leader and waiting for their instructions.

The hand signal that Harry gave indicated that they should leave, and leave was exactly what they did. The pops of their apparition was not loud enough to cut through the crackling of the flames that were now burning past five hundred degrees centigrade, but the moment that they disappeared from the field, the shrieks of those that were caught inside the bonfire and who had been stunned in the earlier battle cut through the air before it subsided at almost the same time that it began.

For a few moments, nothing but the crackling of the flames echoed around the valley. Once more, that sound was drowned by the huge explosions that were facilitated by the plastic explosives that had been planted at every building in the village. When the sound of the explosion faded away to nothingness, not even the crackling of the flame could be heard, but then again, the village of Hogsmeade had, by then, already ceased to exist.

**P14A306 OPERATION HERMIONE Page 14**


	2. Chapter 2

**0A/N: **I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it.

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**TWO**

**Hogsmeade Village, Hogs Valley**

**Scotland, United Kingdom**

**September 24, 2013**

The silence was more deafening than the sounds that Ronald Weasley had been accustomed to whenever he would pop over at the magical village.

He was used to the cacophony of sounds produced by the occupants of the village, and to hear that not as he popped over at what used to be the edge of Hogsmeade village chilled the senior auror to the bone and had forced him to actually gather his red cloak tighter around his lanky frame at the same time that his right hand tightened his grip at his wand.

Never mind the fact that there must be dozens of aurors with him, and there are dozens more poking around the ruins of the village, working in silence in deferent respect to those that they are already sure are buried underneath the rubble that used to be the buildings of the largest magical village in the whole of the United Kingdom.

A tired sigh escaped through the lips of Ron before he turned his attention to his back, toward the auror team that he was leading. He could already see that a few of them had queasy looks on their faces as they stared at the damage, and with a worried but mental sigh, Ron reminded himself that a minority of his team actually came from this village. It meant that the families of these men and women who are the elite of the Auror Corps are more than likely amongst those that are buried underneath the rubble.

Ron shook his head before he returned his attention to the ruins. He might not be the powerhouse that his best friend Harry was, or the infinite fountain of knowledge that Hermione is, but Ron was one of only twelve senior aurors in the Ministry. He might be lacking in both power and knowledge, but he had a fair amount of experience, and he knew that it would take at least two to three hundred witches and wizards – all of them of more than average power – to cause this much damage.

That was a worrying thought, Ron knew, because there are no two hundred witches and wizards in the British Isles that could be gathered together to form this much damage, and if the members of the auror corps are not included in that number – and there is no way that the members of the corps could be included in that number because the members of the corps were all accounted for when the attack happened, save for the ten who were on duty at Hogsmeade – then the number of mages in the British Isles with the required power was less than fifty.

Another worried sigh escaped from the lips of Ron. The fact that there are at least two hundred mages with above average potential had taken part in this attack was undeniable – after all, he was staring at the damage – and because there are less than fifty in the British Isles that could have taken part in the attack, then it stands to reason that the majority of the attackers of Hogsmeade came from outside the country.

_'This is a disaster,_' Ron thought to himself as his eyes surveyed the damage once more. Only the foundations of some of the buildings were standing, and even then, only a few. Most of the buildings are gone, the material that used to make them up turned to rubble that had buried the villagers in one massive landslide. There were signs that a fire had been started but by now, it had subsided.

He turned his attention toward his team and signaled for them to make themselves useful, but he did not even bother to watch the men and women that form his team before he returned his attention to the rubble once more, though this time, his thoughts were back to who the people who did this were.

It was clear to Ron that the attackers were international, and that meant that the International Confederation of Wizards would have to be informed of the situation. Ron shook his head as he took his first step toward the ruins. He was not particularly fond of working with the Internationals, but he knew that in this case, there was little that he could do.

For a few moments, Ron walked around the town aimlessly, absently watching the recovery team levitating – when they could – stones and wood so that the bodies trapped within could be recovered. Most of the time, the recovery team were actually shoveling dirt and rubble out of the way, their levitating spells useless against the speckles of dust.

From his aimless wandering, Ron had already learned that the senior commander of the first team that had arrived at the site had estimated the casualties at around six hundred people, more or less. He also learned that the only good news that they had was the fact that it was evening and not a Hogsmeade weekend for Hogwarts students. That meant that most of the bodies buried underneath the rubble would be adults.

"Senior Auror Weasley," a voice from behind Ron caused him to turn toward that direction, just in time to see the speaker – a young girl about five years junior to Ron – stop in front of him. Ron had a questioning look etched on his face before the girl could say anything, but before he could say anything, she continued, "Captain Bones is waiting for you, sir," she said.

Ron nodded, not even bothering to hide the sigh that escaped from his mouth when he heard the name. Susan Bones was his classmate at Hogwarts, but unlike Ron, she was sorted into Hufflepuff. Fourteen years after the end of the Second Blood War – during which time, Susan lost her one and only family left, Madam Amelia Bones, the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – Susan is the senior-most Auror in the corps, second only to the Head Auror.

Ron had joined the Auror Corps three years after the Battle of Hogwarts. He had spent the first three years after the battle working for his older brother at his shop, but that got old rather quickly. Thanks to his participation in the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron was commissioned into the Auror Corps absent the usual three years of training and quickly made a name for himself within the corps as someone whose mere name is enough to make criminals surrender.

It had something to do with his participation in the final battle of the second blood war, and Ron had to admit that he exploited that to its fullest potential – something that he was sure Harry would have disagreed with him, but since Harry was gone – to make his name.

Five years after he first joined the corps, he was promoted to team leader and was assigned three aurors to work under him. His reputation grew as his arrest sheet grew longer. He was credited as the one man who finally got Mundugus Fletcher in a cell and was the youngest ever Senior Auror when he was promoted to that rank on his seventh year with the Ministry. There was a time when he was senior to Susan, but his vendetta against the Malfoy Family – still a major family within Magical Britain – had seen Ron sidelined.

Ron knew that Susan hated the Malfoy family as well – and it was possible that she hated them more than Ron could – but Susan also knew how to keep her head down and was known as a hard-worker. It was the reason why she became the Senior-Captain.

"Tell her that I would join her momentarily," Ron said, not even bothering to wait for the girl to acknowledge his words. He returned his attention toward the rubble in front of him and subtly shook his head.

It had been more than ten years, but he could still remember the locations in Hogsmeade where he, Harry, and Hermione had spent most of their time together during the few weekends that they could afford to leave the school and just truly relax.

_'I'll have to check on Hermione later,'_ Ron mentally made a note at the same time that he placed his right hand on his right pocket. He played a little with the small blue box that he knew was inside his pocket, before a small smile came across his face and he subtly shook his head once more. He knew that right now is not the proper time to ask Hermione to marry her, not so soon after this attack.

Unlike Ron and Harry, Hermione returned to Hogwarts to finish her NEWT's after the Battle of Hogwarts. As was expected of her, she scored a near perfect – her worse subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts and even then, she achieved a score of Outstanding thanks to her experiences during the year that they were on the run – and had offers coming from all sectors of society even before she could receive her Hogwarts diploma.

Molly wanted Hermione to go into the Ministry and after a row that rattled every window in the Burrow – and resulted to Hermione being removed from the ward-list of the Weasley family home – Hermione left the Burrow and promised that she would never return. She nearly removed Ron from her friend list as well, and only the fact that she realized that she would not have any friends left – Harry was already gone by this time – convinced her otherwise.

Hermione embarked upon a teaching career soon after, entering as the part-time Transfiguration Professor – she could have easily taught any subject, even Defense, but Transfiguration was critical because Minerva was still the one teaching it, and she was getting swamped as the Chief Administrator of the school, even with the assistance of Professor Flitwick – on her first year and eventually replacing Minerva – whose work as the Headmistress began taking more and more of her time – as the resident Transfiguration Mistress of Hogwarts.

Ron pulled his hand out of his pocket and turned his back toward the rubble. There would be a time to wreak vengeance upon those who had perpetrated this attack later. For one thing, they are not even sure who had perpetrated this attack. Right now, the person above the chain of command was asking for him.

Ron knew from experience just how bad it was to ignore instructions from Susan Bones. He also knew from the talk amongst the older aurors – all of them retired – that Susan was actually lenient compared to her aunt. Still, Ron was not about to risk having Susan angry at him again, not when it is clear that the auror corps needs to present a unified front once more.

It was not hard for Ron to find Susan. She was surrounded by other aurors and some ministry officials who are in conference with her. From the hushed tones, it was clear that the ministry functionaries are discussing something that was classified with the senior-most auror in station, but from the look on the face of Susan, it was clear that she does not agree with most of the 'suggestions' that the personal representatives of the Minister are giving her.

It was clear to Ron that Susan was not in a good mood, and though he would readily admit that he does not want to speak with her while she is in a mood like this; he also knew that there was nothing he could do about it. She had asked for him, therefore, he should speak with her. Whatever bad mood Susan had right now will surely double if he were to ignore her.

"Senior Captain," Ron said as he approached. He tired to look confident as he approached, aware that the personal representatives of the Minister are always on the lookout for anyone who could stand up against Susan Bones and could be recruited into the camp of the Minister. Ron had nothing against Susan, but Ron wanted the job that Susan had right now, and he does not care how he could get the job so long as he could get it.

"Ronald," Susan said, she ignored the people in front of her and had all of his attention turned toward Ron at the exact same moment that she said that. Ron could see that the representatives of the Minister did not look happy with Susan ignoring them, but Ron could not take advantage of that because Susan is still his boss, "I want you to coordinate the search for any survivors that are around the area, possibly even in the forests," she said, her tone of voice enough to convince Ron that Susan was not about to take no for an answer, "And I want you to form a detachment to rapidly respond to any further attacks," she paused before she added, "I have a feeling that this would be the first of many."

Ron nodded, he was not about to admit that he harbored the same feeling – at least, not in front of the representatives of the Minister – but he had read about the story of the first rise of You-Know-Who. This was exactly how that Dark Lord had started his reign of terror, though not You-Know-Who had gone for complete destruction of Hogsmeade.

"I will place my best people in that detachment right away," Ron said, he turned his attention away from Susan despite the absence of a dismissal from her, but Ron knew a subtle dismissal from the senior-captain.

No sooner than Ron had taken five steps away from Susan when he was once more intercepted, though this time, the auror that had intercepted him was from his own team. From the dirt that hung from the robe of the man, it was clear that he had been digging at the rubble without the help of his wand.

"Sir," the young auror said. There were fresh tears in the eyes of the man, and with a start, Ron realized that this was one of the many aurors in his team that had actually came from Hogsmeade, "I…," he began.

Ron tried to keep the stern façade on his face, but it was hard for the red-head, when he is faced with a man who had clearly lost his entire family. He wanted to tell the man to return to his post and help with the rescue and recovery operations, but instead of saying that, Ron placed his right hand on the shoulder of the man – an inadequate gesture, Ron knew, but the only gesture that he could give in these circumstances – and with a sigh, he said, "Go ahead and take a few days off."

The man nodded, but instead of popping out of the village, he just turned his attention back toward the rubble and with a shudder, he returned to work. The man had no home to return to, and chances are, his entire family is under that rubble. Given those circumstances, even if Ron had ordered his to stand down, assisting in the recue and recovery was truly the only thing that the man could do.

"Mr. Weasley," a familiar voice once more made Ron stop, and he turned his attention toward the source of the voice just in time to see the Headmistress of Hogwarts approach him. She had always maintained a stern façade, but it was clear from the way that she walked toward Ron that she was holding back tears.

Ron, at first, thought nothing strange about that. This was Hogsmeade village after all, and it was an integral part of Hogwarts. In any case, Ron knew that the Headmistress had made a lot of friends in the village over the past decades that she had been teaching at Hogwarts, friends that are – more than likely – buried underneath the rubble that used to be Hogsmeade village.

"Ron," the Headmistress said, and that caused Ron to pause. Although it was not strange for Minerva McGonagall to refer to her former students by their first names – she always refer to current students by their last names with the appropriate prefixes, unless what she wanted to discuss with them warranted the use of their first names – the times that Minerva had referred to Ron using his nickname was few and far between, and mostly it was because she wanted to import something that warranted the familiarity.

The last time that Minerva had called Ron by his nickname was when the Headmistress delivered the news of the death of his father three years ago. With a start, Ron realized that the news that Minerva was about to give him was going to be a sad one.

The senior auror stared at his former Transfiguration professor for a few moments before his eyes widened in realization. Ron felt weak at the knees and had to consciously catch himself from falling even as Minerva continued to approach him.

"Hermione," Ron whispered, barely under his breath in silence, but still loud enough for Minerva to hear. He turned his attention toward the rubble and was about to launch himself into the dirt to find Hermione when he felt the hands of the Headmistress on his shoulder.

"I am sorry, Ron," Minerva said. Her grip on his shoulder was tighter than necessary so that she could prevent him from jumping toward the rubble. She forced Ron to turn his attention toward her and fortunately, he allowed her to turn him. Once Ron was facing her, the Headmistress continued, "She informed me that she would be stopping by the village before dinner to pick up a few supplies, and she had not returned to the castle," she shook her head before she continued, "the charmed necklace that she wore indicated that she is still in the village."

Following the death of Professor Charity Burbage – the former Muggle Studies Professor – in the hands of You-Know-Who, all active professors of Hogwarts had been given charmed necklaces with tracking charms embedded in them. This allowed the Headmistress to track the professors wherever they are, and said tracking charms – because they are not cast upon the person itself – remain active even after the death of the person who wore the necklace.

"I…," Ron began as he stared into the eyes of his former head of house. He looked ready to bolt and the Headmistress was ready to pull him back, but after a few moments, he just nodded, "I see," he said.

Minerva looked worried, and she had good reason to. She knew that Ron was planning to propose to Hermione soon, and now, from the looks of things, it was obvious that he would never get the chance.

Ron pulled the blue box from his pocket and with a wistful smile, he turned his attention back toward the rubble. He looked ready to throw the box toward the heap, but after a few moments, he shook his head and returned the box to his pocket. Once the box was back in his pocket, he returned his attention toward his former head of house.

"I was planning on asking her to marry me when we go out on our dinner next week," Ron said. At the end of each week, Ron would show up at the castle and ask Hermione out for dinner. She would usually indulge him – unless she was so busy grading papers – and the two of them would eat out at Hogsmeade or even Diagon Alley.

Following the disappearance of Harry, Ron and Hermione turned to each other. Many had speculated about their relationship, but Hermione officially never claimed Ron as her boyfriend – she and Ron had started to see each other in a romantic capacity during their sixth year at Hogwarts, but apparently, Hermione thought that was over.

Minerva could hardly blame Hermione, however. The young girl had told Minerva – and only Minerva – about her row with Molly Weasley.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Minerva said. She wanted to show her regret to the boy – no matter how old they become, in the eyes of their former professor, they would always be children, and besides, Minerva knew what the answer of Hermione would be – but Minerva had a reputation to uphold, even at the risk of looking as if she is unsympathetic.

As it stands, the Headmistress is sure that the students would be rioting tomorrow when the news that Hogsmeade had been destroyed is finally given, but the news that one of the most well-liked professors of Hogwarts was gone would most likely turn that riot into a fatal one. The Headmistress made a mental note to prepare the staff for what she was sure would be a busy day tomorrow.

"Not as sorry as whoever is behind this would be when I get my hands on them," Ron said, unconsciously tightening his fists – to the point that his fingers actually drew blood from his palms – before his pain receptors started sending signals of abuse to his brain. He ignored the signal for a few moments, but he did let his fists go.

Ron turned his attention toward the rubble. Ministry recovery teams – augmented by the accidental magical reversal squad and the obliviation squad – had arrived and had taken over from the first responding aurors who are now being diverted to securing the area against further attacks – though the chances of that happening was very slim, the slaughter was over.

"Excuse me, Headmistress," Ron said, and though he said that, he actually did not wait for Minerva to say anything before he walked toward where a squad of aurors was assembling for an orders group.

Ron wanted to give instructions to the assembling aurors, but before he could reach them, his attention was taken by a member of the accidental magical reversal squad waving his hand above his head and trying to attract the attention of a nearby auror. It attracted the attention of Ron and he approached the man.

"What is it?" Ron asked. He saw that the wizard – for he was male – held a device in his hand that Ron had not seen before. It had colored wires that seem to originate from underneath the box that the wizard cradled gently on his hand.

"I've only seen this once before, sir," the man replied. He paused for a few moments in order to allow Susan to approach them before he continued – making sure that Susan could hear – "when we were working on the Peters case."

Ron turned his attention toward Susan, and he saw that she looked thoughtful and outraged at the same time. The Peters case was a sore point for her career because it nearly got her fired. Barnabas Peters was a low-level muggle-born criminal who crossed over to the muggle world and sold his expertise – if it could be called that – to the highest bidder. Unfortunately, the highest bidder turned out to be extremist terrorists, and thanks to the innate magical abilities of Peters – he might have been a petty criminal, but he was still magical, and he was good in making invisibility cloaks – said extremists had managed to wreak terror in the muggle world.

In the end, the muggle governments spent millions of pounds, seven years, and eight lives in tracking the man down. The team that was sent to apprehend him had counted thirteen more dead before he was finally taken out with a bullet in the head by a sniper from the SAS.

"What is it?" Susan asked. If this was connected with the Peters case, then she knew that she and her Department must end this as soon as possible, preferably before the muggles got involved.

Ron did not think that this was related to that old case. For one thing, Peters had already crossed over and he was already dead. In the mind of Ron, it was most likely a copycat, though like Susan, he knew that they must end this as soon as possible and, yes, they must take care of this without intervention from the muggles.

Ron was with Susan and the Minister when the Muggle Prime Minister told them that another situation like Peters might see the end of autonomy for the magical world. The gut feeling of both Ron and Susan told them that this might be the beginning of that day, and both fervently prayed that that day would not come.

Unfortunately, the next words that came from the member of the accidental magical reversal squad might have ended that hope before it could even begin, "This is a timer, sir, ma'am," he said, and before either Ron or Susan could ask what that meant, he continued, "It is used with muggle explosives."


End file.
